Thanks to them, I put bad behavior ‘behind’

This goes out to the men and women who left their mark on me. Literally!

Those who put “pedal to the metal,” or better put: “paddle to the mettle” when the occasion called for it and to the backside of a stubborn, hardheaded child/teen.

First and foremost on the list would be my dad (probably first and foremost on any child’s list). With him, you either “did” or you “didn’t.” There was no in-between. No: “Why?”

“Because I said so.” “But why?”

“Just do it.” “But why?”

You see. Right there – three spankings just waiting to happen. If he said, “do it,” you did. If he said, “don’t do it,” you didn’t. Rocket science, not required … Unless of course you just simply had to be fuel for the fire.

Unwarranted? No. Abusive? Never! Blessed is the man and/or woman who knows how and when to wield a belt or paddle or hand or even a switch as a form of discipline. “How” and “when” being the “utmost” and “critical” elements!

Second to my dad was my aunt. Now I’ll be honest. I did not like my aunt … at all. She lived in Tennessee but would come to visit us “months” at a time. By the time I had reached my teens I had figured out how to outsmart my dad at least 50 percent of the time. Lucky me. She was there to fill in the gaps. I’m here to tell you the truth. Women really do have eyes in the back of their head!

Third would have to be a couple of my high school principals. I’m not so good with names, but I’m pretty sure I could tell you theirs easy enough by holding a mirror to my backside. No doubt the woodshop teacher was none too happy to burn their name(s) into the paddle. No doubt they were none to happy to burn them into me.

Again, with cause. For instance, one time I actually put a lit firecracker in the desk drawer of a teacher. That’s right! I put a firecracker in his desk drawer.

He had his back turned writing on the blackboard. I lit it. Ran to the front. Opened the drawer. Put it in. Had just closed the drawer when “boom,” off it went. He snapped around – startled to the max – to not only find his culprit, but also to find his culprit (dimwittedly) had turned himself in. (Yeah, my planning left much to be desired.)

It was off to the principal’s office where I was told: Six licks (and not to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Pop) or suspension. Hmm. Suspension, where the first thing I’ll be greeted with is my dad with a belt? No thanks. Besides, he’s a principal. How hard can he hit?

Turns out: pretty dad blame hard! And that was after waiting five minutes while he pulled the paddle out of his desk. It was like watching the Titanic go by. “Will this thing ever end?” Oh, and a special thanks to that woodshop teacher for not only burning his name into the handle but drilling holes in there so as not to slow the force of an atomic blast.

I’m telling you he lifted my feet off the ground to the point … well, let’s just say David Blaine would have been proud of the way I defied gravity. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” And only five to go!

O.K., so maybe I oversold it a little bit – a “lot” of bit to be exact, but that’s not to say it didn’t hurt like the proverbial “h” “e” “double hockey sticks.” I cried, truth be told. There, I said it.

Another case for ensuring that (and prayer) stays out of schools? Say that if you want – we’ll agree to disagree on both points – but I know the truth. If not for men like him and my dad and women like my aunt and others – all placed in my path in accordance with God’s timing – this old boy would have kept on heading down a path of self-destruction.

No butts about it.

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